Chapter 178
Sitting in a chair beside Claire’s bed, Nick felt his eyelids getting
heavy, his body growing stiff. It was
just after ten o’clock, which meant he’d been there at the hospital for twelve
hours now. He was sure there were
visiting hours, but no one on the floor had bothered to enforce them, either
because they assumed he was Claire’s husband or knew exactly who he was and was
giving him the celebrity treatment.
Either way, he knew it was time to go home. He didn’t mind being there with Claire, but
he was exhausted, and so was she. She
had been in terrible pain by the time Aidyn had forced her back to bed (Nick
had a suspicion the pain had been there all along, masked by the adrenaline
coursing through her frenzied body), and so they’d upped her dosage of pain
medication, which had dulled her senses and sent her drifting in and out. Though he sympathized with the loopy feeling
she was experiencing, Nick thought it was for the best – at least now Claire
could relax and sleep for a time, too out of it to torture herself with worry
for the twins.
The TV had been droning in the background for a few hours now; they’d
sat through “American Idol” (or rather, Nick had sat through it while Claire
drifted off during commercial breaks) and now had on a rerun of “South Park.” But when the episode began with a truck full
of aborted fetuses crashing, Nick cringed and turned it off, figuring maybe
that wasn’t the best thing for Claire to be watching right then.
“Well,” he said, standing up and using this as his excuse for turning
off the TV, “if it’s okay, I think I’m gonna get going for the night. I’d offer to stay, but my back’s killing me
in this chair, and I need to let my leg charge overnight.”
“Oh, sure. I didn’t expect you
to stay overnight. You didn’t have to
stay this long,” said Claire, adding with a smile, “… but I’m glad you did.”
“No problem.” Bending down, Nick
kissed her forehead. “If you need
anything or if something comes up, just call me. Doesn’t matter what time it is. I’ll have my phone nearby, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you so much,
Nick. You are too good to me,” she
murmured, her words slightly slurred from the pain medication. She was too out of it to remember that it was
still his birthday and didn’t know he’d skipped out on his own birthday
party. Cringing, he wondered if Laureen
was still upset with him for that. He
would have to call her once he got out of here.
“No, your husband just isn’t good enough,” Nick replied, thinking of
Jamie and how he’d been MIA all night.
He must have left the hospital, but where he’d gone was a mystery. Frankly, Nick didn’t care, but he knew Claire
did, and that made it a shitty thing for Jamie to do, disappearing on her like
that. But it wasn’t the first time, and
he was sure it wouldn’t be the last either.
A dopey smile spread across Claire’s face. “No… he’s just not strong, like you. He doesn’t know how to handle grief…”
Nick shrugged, fighting the urge to smile at the comparison. “However you wanna put it,” he said. “I’ll come back tomorrow, alright? You get some sleep.”
“Don’t think that will be hard,” she murmured, her eyes closing and
opening.
He smiled. “Good… ‘Night, Claire.”
“’Night, Nick…” Her eyelids
drooped again, and this time, they stayed shut.
Satisfied that she would be able to rest, Nick checked to make sure he
had both his keys and his phone and then left the room.
He really had intended to go straight home, completely worn out from
the emotional toll of the day, but impulsively, he turned onto the road that
led to Laureen’s apartment complex instead, anxious to talk to her and make
sure she wasn’t too mad at him. He knew
he had let her down, but if she only knew what Claire was going through, he
felt sure she would understand.
Minutes later, he was outside her door, knocking lightly. It was dark and quiet at her complex, but he
knew she wouldn’t be in bed yet. She was
a night owl. Sure enough, he soon heard
footsteps, and the door swung open.
There Laureen stood, wearing pajama pants and an unreadable expression.
“Hi,” he said, offering a sheepish smile. “Are you mad?”
Laureen stared at him for a few seconds, perhaps trying to decide if
she was or not. Finally, she answered,
“No,” and stepped back, holding the door so that he could come into the dark
apartment. Closing it behind him, she
asked, “How is everything with Claire and the babies?”
“Not great,” Nick replied with a shrug.
“Delaine’s hanging on, but she’s really sick. Jamie disappeared hours ago and never came
back, and Claire really needed someone there with her. I hope you understand.”
Laureen nodded. “I’m sorry if it
sounded like I didn’t care, on the phone earlier. You know that’s not true; Claire’s one of my
closest friends. I’m so sorry this is
happening to her.”
“No, I know,” Nick said quickly.
“It didn’t sound like that. I
just know I let you down, that’s all.
I’m really sorry… I had no idea you were planning something…”
She offered a crooked smile.
“That’s why I faked sick last night.
I wanted to get everything ready so that I could spend all of today with
you.”
It took Nick’s tired brain a moment to process this. “Wait… you mean you were just faking last
night? You mean… aww, Laureen, you put
that much effort into this? And I blew
you off…? I’m so sorry…”
“It’s okay… really. I called
Howie first, cause he’s the one who helped me plan this, and he
understood. He called most of the other
people for me to call it off, so it’s all taken care of. No biggie,” she said, though her voice was
glum. He could tell the party really had
been a big deal to her and realized he’d ruined the whole thing. He felt incredibly ungrateful, though he
hadn’t meant to be so.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, taking her by the arms and
looking her straight in the face. “I
don’t know how yet, but… I will, okay?
Thanks for going to all of the trouble… it means a lot to me, even if it
didn’t exactly work out,” he offered, knowing his words sounded lame.
But Laureen smiled and nodded.
She seemed okay, almost back to her usual self, though her hazel eyes
didn’t have their usual glimmer. Hoping
to bring some of that back, he kissed her and asked, “Mind if I stay for
awhile? I’ve still got a couple hours of
birthday left.”
Laureen’s smile grew, and this time, it looked more sincere. “Of course I don’t mind. Besides, I haven’t given your present yet.”
Nick grinned back. “After the
day I had today, I don’t care about presents.
All I want,” he told her, “is a relaxing night with you.”
“Well, you’ve got presents coming, whether you want them or not,” said
Laureen with a giggle. “But that last
part… that can be arranged.”
Flashing an impish smile over her shoulder, she flounced into the small
living room, and he followed.
***
Claire awoke in a fog. She
didn’t remember falling asleep, barely remembered Nick leaving, but instantly
remembered Delaine and wondered how her babies were doing. Sluggishly, she reached for her nurse call
button, anxious to get an update, even if she could not leave her bed. It must have been very late; her room was
dark. But suddenly, even before she hit
the call button, a panel of light spilled in from the hallway, as her door
inched open.
She squinted against the unexpected burst of light, trying to make out
the silhouette that was creeping into her room.
She could tell by the shape that he was a man, but not Nick – he was not
big enough and moved without the slight unevenness of Nick’s gait.
It was a little sad, she would muse later, that she knew Nick’s figure
and walk better than that of her husband.
Still unable to see in the shadowy room, she identified Jamie by his
smell – a foul mix of beer, cigarettes, and his Calvin Klein cologne.
“Where have you been?” she asked quietly, breaking the stillness, and
she could see Jamie’s form stiffen. He
hadn’t realized she was awake.
He let out a shuddering breath and laughed, a loud chuckle. “You scared me!” he exclaimed, his words
slurring together.
He was drunk.
“Uh-huh. Why’d I bother
asking? At a bar, weren’t you? That’s a perfect place to go when your baby
daughter is dying,” she spat, her voice growing thick with the rush of
emotion his sudden appearance had conjured.
Happy-go-lucky drunk Jamie instantly transformed into overemotional
drunk Jamie, as he burst into tears.
“Don’t sssay it like that!” he cried, falling into the chair next to her
bed. “She’s… she’s not dying… is she?”
Fueled by her anger, Claire’s sluggish mind was suddenly sharp, and the
impassioned words came pouring out in a tirade.
“Why should you remember? Your
whole mission was to go out and forget,” she accused, cold and sarcastic. “Forget you even have a family, right? A wife who needs you… two babies in the NICU…
what do they matter when you’re good and drunk?”
“I’m not… I’m not drunk,” sniveled Jamie, who sounded more
trashed than she’d seen him since college.
“I just had one drink…” In the
light of the open door, she could see him hold up one swaying finger. “One… to settle my nerves.”
Lying listlessly in her bed, staring over at her husband, Claire wanted
to cry, but for the first time that day, the tears did not come. Her eyes were dry; perhaps they were out of
tears. That, or she was just too angry
to cry.
“You disgust me,” she said flatly.
“You think I want our daughters around some blubbering alcoholic? You think I want one around me? Think again.
If this is how it’s gonna be, Jamie, then it’s not. It’s not gonna be.” She sat up just a little, shaking her
head. “You need to go, right now. Get out of here. Call a cab and get your drunk ass to a hotel,
cause you’re sure as hell not gonna wake up my parents at the condo acting like
this.”
“Claire… I’m sorry,” Jamie sobbed, dropping his head to her mattress,
his shoulders shaking pitifully.
She was unmoved, too disgusted to feel any sort of empathy for
him. Pushing him away with one hand, she
retorted, “Maybe I’ll let you apologize tomorrow, when you’re sober. Don’t say it now because I know you don’t
mean it. You never mean it.”
“I do mean it!”
“No. You don’t,” she snapped
bitterly. “Now go, or I’ll call and get
security to drag you out. And don’t
think I won’t, cause you know I will.”
As upset as she was right then, she would have made good on her
threat. Even Jamie, in his wasted state,
could see this, and so he finally admitted defeat, breathing raggedly as he
slouched out of the room, tail between his legs.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and tried to push the conversation
she’d just had from her mind. It was
impossible, of course, and after a few minutes of trying, she did call for
Aidyn and asked for three things: an
update from the NICU, a taxi for Jamie, and a sleeping pill for herself.
When Aidyn left and returned again ten minutes later, Claire calmed
herself with the news that Delaine was no better, but no worse and that a cab
was on its way to pick up Jamie. Then
she took the pill and forgot it all as she drifted back into a deep sleep.
***
All around
her, there were flames, crackling and popping as they devoured everything in
their path. The heat was intense, and
coupled with the putrid smell of burning plastic and gasoline that assaulted
her nostrils, it was downright suffocating.
She coughed and gagged, unable to inhale anything but smoke. Get away! her brain screamed at her. Danger!
No air! Get away from here!
But she
ignored all the warning signals flaring in her head, went against logic, and
crawled further inside, reaching out blindly through the smoke in hope of
making contact with him. “Nick!” she
choked out his name, wondering if he could even hear her above the roar of the
fire.
Or maybe he
was already beyond hearing.
No… she
refused to believe that. He was here,
and he was alive, and she would get to him, if it took her last breath to do
so.
“Nick!!”
Suddenly,
her desperate fingers made contact, finding an arm. She had him now. Gasping in relief and oxygen deprivation, she
tightened her hand around his upper arm and pulled, trying to free him and drag
him towards her. But he didn’t
budge. She reached in with her other arm
now and used both hands to pull, but it was no use. He was either too heavy or lodged in too
tight, and she could not move him.
“Nick, help
me out here! I’m trying! I’m trying!!”
The flames,
like her panic, were creeping up on her, bearing down on her now. She could feel the heat, stronger than ever,
feel herself dripping sweat in its glow.
She was going to have to move, or the fire would consume her too. But she couldn’t, wouldn’t, let go.
As the
first burst of flames leapt onto her pants and ignited them, she shrieked out
in pain and terror, still pulling on him as she writhed and winced. Tears and soot and pain blinded her, but the
adrenaline coursing through her sharpened her senses, and she knew, in the back
of her mind, that this was it. They were
both going to die.
Her lungs
screamed for air, her chest heaving with enormous effort as she tried to
inhale, but all there was to breathe was smoke.
With a gasp, Claire awoke and, for a few seconds, lay breathing hard in
her bed, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain ignited in her belly by the
sudden jerking movement. When she opened
them, the room was still dark, in sharp contrast from the brightness of the
flames in her dream.
Dream… only a dream.
But it seemed so horrifyingly real, and even now, she found it
difficult to breathe, remembering how she had sputtered and choked for oxygen
in the midst of the fire. That was the
only detail that stood out in her mind at first, but as she anxiously thought
back to the dream, others returned to her.
Someone had been trapped in the fire… someone she had been trying to
save. One of her babies? No… they seemed the likeliest choice, given
the circumstances, but it had not been Delaine or Caitlin. Yet, it was someone she loved. A man.
Jamie?
She closed her eyes, thinking hard, trying to replay the images in her
mind.
Not Jamie.
Nick.
It had been Nick in her dream, Nick in the fire.
But… fire? Why had she dreamed
of fire? And Nick?
Though she tried to tell herself it was just a nightmare, a stress
dream brought on by a combination of emotions and drugs, it left her feeling
deeply unsettled and scared. And before
she knew it, she was reaching for the room phone. She hadn’t a clue what time it was, but she
didn’t care. Nick had told her to call
any time, and she was going to take him up on the offer, if only to make sure
he was okay…
***
Honey, why you calling me so late?
It’s kinda hard to talk right now
Honey, why you crying, is everything okay?
I gotta whisper cause I can’t be too loud…
A cell phone ringer jarred Nick awake.
Alert enough to recognize it as his own, yet still disoriented, he
reached for the phone in its usual place, charging on his bedside table, and
collided with a head of hair instead.
Blinking, he sat up quickly and looked around, trying to place his
surroundings. This happened in a matter
of seconds. He was at Laureen’s
apartment, in Laureen’s bedroom, in Laureen’s bed, next to Laureen, who was
still sound asleep, despite being whacked in the head. He wasn’t used to this sleeping arrangement
yet – she had spent the night at his place before, but this was the first time
he’d ever slept at hers.
In the midst of the confusion, his phone was still ringing. He found it on the other side of the bed,
lying on the floor with his keys, wallet, clothes, and prosthesis, and grabbed
it quickly. Eager to silence it before
it woke Laureen up, he flipped it open without bothering to squint at the
caller ID and whispered, “Hello?”
“Nick?” It was Claire, though
her voice sounded higher than normal.
His heart started to beat fast, as he remembered telling her to call
him any time in the night if she needed something or if something
happened. Fearing the worst, he asked,
“Claire, what’s goin’ on?”
“I just had to hear your voice and make sure you’re okay.”
Nick frowned in confusion at this answer. “Okay?
Sure I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be
okay?”
“It’s… it’s nothing. I just had
a bad dream,” she said, sounding sheepish now.
But curiosity had the better of Nick, and he whispered, “Hang on for
just a minute; I need to move to a different room.” He set the phone down long enough to quickly
put on his leg, and then he crept out of Laureen’s room, closing the door
behind him.
Well, my girl’s in the next room
Sometimes I wish she was you
I guess we never really moved on…
In the stillness of the dark living room, he sat down on the couch and
put the phone back to his ear. “Okay,
I’m here.”
“Where are you?” asked Claire.
“Laureen’s place. We fell
asleep.”
“Aww… I’m really sorry for waking you up. I shouldn’t have called. I just… had a bad feeling, I guess.”
“No big deal; I told you to call.
How come you had a bad feeling?
What was your dream?” Nick pressed.
Now that she had him up and talking, he was alert and curious. He listened as Claire told him about her
nightmare, in which he had been trapped in a fire, and she had been trying to
pull him out.
The description of the dream gave him chills... He had had dreams before which turned out to
be significant, like the recurring dreams in which his leg had been severed,
albeit by a shark instead of cancer. But
of course, he didn’t tell Claire this.
Instead, he laughed it off.
“Aw, I’m sure it’s just caused you’re worried about the twins. Maybe you’re, like, transferring your fear
to… me,” he said with a chuckle.
“I guess so,” Claire replied uncertainly. “Sorry, I’m not usually a big baby about
dreams, but this one really freaked me out.
I know I’m not psychic or anything, but still… I just had to call and
make sure everything was okay.”
Nick smiled. “Well, I’m glad you
cared enough to call.” Switching the
cell phone to his other ear, he asked, “So how are things? Any news on Delaine?”
“Not since earlier. I asked
about her after Jamie left, and there was no change, so I took a sleeping pill
and crashed. Maybe that’s what
gave me freaky dreams…”
It’s funny that you’re calling me tonight
And yes, I dreamt of you too…
Nick was glad that Delaine was still hanging in there and that Claire
had gotten some sleep, but his ears had picked up on something else in the
midst of that answer. “Jamie came back?”
Does he know you’re talking to me?
Will it start a fight?
No, I don’t think she has a clue…
Claire exhaled darkly. “Yes,”
she huffed. “Drunk off his ass.”
Nick let out a low whistle.
“Ooh, not good. Didja let him
have it?” he asked hopefully. He knew
from experience that Claire did not tolerate going out and getting wasted as a
means of coping with anxiety, especially when she was abandoned as a
result. He would never forget how much
he had hurt her when he’d run out on her that night, distraught with the worry
that she might be rejecting her transplant.
“I had to
see you.”
“You had to
see me, huh?” Claire remarked. “That’s
funny… you sure didn’t seem to want to see me last night.”
Nick closed
his eyes briefly. “Claire… it wasn’t
you, okay? I love you so much… I never
meant to hurt you. I was just freaked
out, and I thought it might help to take a drive, get some air, get a drink...
you know, calm down.”
“Well, why
didn’t you wait for me? I could have
used all of those things last night too,” Claire said in a small voice.
Nick would never forgive himself for that, for doing exactly what Jamie
had done to her tonight. She had
forgiven him, but surely she hadn’t forgotten.
He had always wondered if she held a grudge over him for that… for
leaving her and for kissing the girl in the bar. Maybe that was a part of why she had left
him, the fear that she could not trust him.
But now the tables had turned, and it was Jamie she could not trust,
Jamie who had betrayed her once again.
He hoped she could recognize this pattern of abandonment; it wasn’t like
she was stupid.
“Sure as hell did,” she answered his question. “I kicked him out of my room. I am not dealing with that crap on top
of anything else. If he’s going to act
like an alcoholic, I don’t want him near me or our children. I need a man who can hold it together.”
“Good for you,” Nick encouraged her gently. Inside his chest, his heart was speeding
up. I can be that man, the
wistful thought entered his head. I
can hold it together for you. I can be
there for you; I’ll be by your side no matter what. Haven’t I proven that to you by now?
But he didn’t dare say anything like this, because what did it
matter? They couldn’t be together now,
not without betraying the ones to which they were tied. But if they were to sever those ties…
Well, my girl’s in the next room
Sometimes I wish she was you
I guess we never really moved on...
He shook his head, silently forcing that thought away, as the picture
of Laureen, sleeping a room away, entered his mind. He could betray her in his thoughts, but
never would he betray her for real.
Maybe he wasn’t in love with her yet, but he still cared. He cared about her too much to hurt her like
that.
Yet as he sat up, talking to Claire for almost half an hour, Nick
couldn’t help but yearn for the woman he did still love.
It’s really good to hear your voice, saying my name
It sounds so sweet
Coming from the lips of an angel
Hearing those words, it makes me weak
And I never wanna say goodbye
But girl, you make it hard to be faithful
With the lips of an angel
- “Lips of an Angel” by Hinder
***